Page 52 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

CHAPTER 25

PRESTON

Emma didn’t have anything to worry about with tennis. She’s held her own with every doubles match we’ve won. We’re in the very last game of the tournament, playing against Jackson and Peyton.

I hand Emma the ball, trying not to notice the way her skin gleams underneath the sun. “It’s your serve.”

She bites her lip, her eyes looking at a huddled Peyton and Jackson before looking back at me. “I’m nervous.”

I scoff. “Don’t be. If we lose, at least it’s to the bride and groom.”

I’m shocked we made it to the final round of the tournament. Not because of Emma swearing she was terrible at tennis, but because I found it hard to concentrate on anything but her. I’m competitive by nature. It’s my job to be. But today, my focus has been mostly on Emma.

I couldn’t look away during our first match when she realized she wasn’t half-bad. The first time she clapped her hands in excitement while she bounced on her feet made my chest feel tight. When we won the first match and she did the most adorable happy dance that was completely out of rhythm, she stole my breath.

And when we won the semifinal match and she threw her body against mine in celebration, I realized I’ll think about this woman for the rest of my life.

“You ready?” Emma asks, grabbing my bicep.

I nod, realizing I’d spaced out in the middle of the court. “Let’s get this win.”

She gives me a warm smile before taking position. I rock from left to right on the balls of my feet, ready for her to serve. Jackson and Peyton won a set, and so have Emma and I. Whoever wins this next one wins the match, and I know it’s a lot of pressure on Emma for it to be her turn to serve.

“You’ve got this, Emma!” Gram cheers from the sidelines. She’s been emphatically cheering for both sides during this match. When Peyton once gave her a look of betrayal, she just shrugged and made a comment about how both of us were her grandchildren and that she wouldn’t pick favorites.

Emma bounces the ball a couple of times before lifting it above her head and serving it. I follow it, shocked when it goes straight into the net.

“We won!” Peyton cheers, jumping up and down in excitement.

“Well, shit,” Emma says from behind me, her voice not sounding nearly as disappointed as I thought it’d be. If I’ve learned anything about her during this tennis tournament, it’s that she doesn’t like to lose. She’s extremely competitive, and her reaction to losing this match doesn’t match up with how she’s acted every other one. Especially since the reason we lost is because of her serve.

My head cocks to the side as I narrow my eyes on her. Peyton’s cheers can still be heard behind me, but I don’t pay attention to anything but Emma. She comes to a stop right in front of me.

Her hands fall to her sides as she shrugs. “Sorry for losing the game for us, Rhodes.”

“You lost on purpose.”

Her eyes go wide as she takes a step closer to me. She looks around, her eyes darting back and forth as if she’s afraid someone heard me. No one can—they’re all busy congratulating Peyton and Jackson on the win.

“I have no idea what you mean.” She straightens her spine before throwing her ponytail over her shoulder. I see right through her trying to play it cool.

“You’ve consistently served the last three matches. You’re telling me you just so happened to mess that last one up?”

“Yep.”

I shake my head. “Liar.”

I keep the rest of my thoughts to myself. If she doesn’t want to admit she lost on purpose, she doesn’t have to. But I still know. And admire her for it. I would’ve felt bad as well if we had won and taken the attention away from Peyton today. It made sense to give them the game. I’m just a little shocked Emma cared enough to have that same thought too.

One of Jackson’s groomsmen comes running up to us. I’m about to tell him I’m busy when he runs right past me and goes straight for Emma.

“I know the loss is tough, but you played great. I’m impressed.” I think his name is Derrick—or was it Patrick—either way, he can fuck right off from talking to my girlfriend.

Much to my dismay, Emma gives him a wide smile. One that I’d tricked myself into thinking she only gives me. “Thank you, Eric. That means a lot coming from a former tennis star.”

My teeth grind against each other as I clench my hands at my sides.

He takes a step closer to her as he waves at the air dismissively. “It was just in college.”

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